


Play Me Something Sweet

by nonsensedarling



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Cellist!Harry, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Light dom/sub undertones, Louis is 41, M/M, Nipple Play, Riding, Sex Talk, Sloppy Makeouts, Smut, Teasing, Writer!Louis, a tiny bit of angst so smol, harry is 39
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 18:24:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21020243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonsensedarling/pseuds/nonsensedarling
Summary: “Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Louis says. Harry just looks at him and lifts an eyebrow in silent question. “How about if you pretend I’m your cello as you try it out, like we used to?”--Or Harry's good at a lot of instruments, but his favorite one to play is Louis.





	Play Me Something Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> I went to the CSO a few weeks ago while I was in the middle of reading [Love Is A Rebellious Bird](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162438/chapters/2362331). I also fell mildly in love with one of the cellists playing that night, who was really into it but seemed a bit stressed out by one section. The combination of those things turned into this idea that I couldn't get out of my head, about practicing but not practicing exactly in order to relieve stress. It's all fluffy and smutty and fluffy smutty, so I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Shout out to my bestie and beta [dearlou](https://dearlou.tumblr.com/) for exactly the kind of critique I need balanced with validation I am always anxious for.
> 
> **************************************************

For the sixth day in a row, Harry is wrapped around his cello. This wouldn’t have been a problem if he practiced as he usually did, but these weren’t normal practice sessions.

Over the past week, he’d spent each day locked in the study, working over the next piece he was set to perform. For ten hours each day, It was like he was getting lost in it; lost in the movement, lost in the notes, lost in trying to exceed perfection — which he already was, in Louis’ opinion. And London seemed to agree, as Harry had been first chair cello in the London Symphony Orchestra for the last decade. 

Louis was with him for all of that. All of the stress, and the long days and nights practicing and the constant stream of music pouring out, first through Harry’s dorm, then their apartment, and then their house, which they’d bought together two years before getting married. 

He liked to tease Harry about it, about how he could never get a quiet moment with him because he was either playing or talking. “Always making some sort of noise, Curly, can’t even be quiet in your sleep.”

Truthfully, though, Louis loved listening to Harry play, almost as much as he loved listening to Harry talk. 

A stilited C-note echoes throughout the house and Louis winces. Harry lets out a short frustrated huff and pauses for a full minute. Before he can get back at it, Louis calls out to him. “Harry, love? Will you come and have some tea with me?”

Almost immediately, Harry clears his throat and calls back to him, “In a bit, Lou. Just really want to work this section out.”

“Okay,” Louis says, at his normal volume, since Harry’s already starting to play again. He’ll let him have another hour.

Normally, Louis would busy himself with their kids when Harry gets into this groove, but they’ve been away at Anne’s house all week to spend time with their grandmother. He misses Oliver and Maria dearly, but he will admit that he’s gotten more writing done this week without their loud, rambunctious eight- and ten-year-old-selves distracting him. 

“I wonder where they get that from,” Harry mused when Louis told him the same yesterday at bedtime. “I’m not sure I know anyone like that, do you?”

Then, Louis’d tackled him into their pile of pillows and sucked him off before they’d passed out.

Without his kids, Louis busies himself with some more writing. He’s trying out a new genre and it’s messing with his head. It doesn’t have the same formula as all of his other books, which is part of the reason he wanted to try something new, but now he’s stuck. Louis knows better than to force it when he’s in this rut, so when nothing comes after writing a few sentences, he resorts to playing FIFA instead. 

It’s been more than an hour and Harry still hasn’t stopped playing. Louis stands and makes his way into their study, Harry’s favourite room to practice in.  _ “It’s got the perfect acoustics, Lou!” _ he’d said, bright eyed and enthusiastic when they’d first looked at the house.  _ “Can you see it? I’ll play here, by the little alcove, and you can write by the window. Can’t you just see it?” _

He could, he did, and they’d put an offer in on it before Harry’s smile had a chance to wear off. 

Louis did still write in the study, sometimes, but most of the time he couldn’t, would just end up staring at Harry as he played instead of focusing on his own work. He loved the way he looked. His long hair swept back in a little bun, face pulled in concentration, eyes intensely focused on his pages or closed entirely in the moment, body strong and sculpted like it was made to hold that instrument. 

Harry was good at other instruments too. He could play the guitar and the piano, a few pieces here and there on the saxophone, as well, and he recently tried his luck at the drums, which he was brilliant at, of course. They all looked good on Harry, and he had fun playing them, but nothing captured his attention quite like the cello.  _ “You don’t forget your first love,” _ Harry would often say, holding the instrument by its neck gently. And then Louis would do the same to Harry and agree. Harry always called him a sap when he did that, but he’d also blush the best shade of pink.

Once he got to the door, Louis watched Harry play for a moment, concentration weaved in his eyebrows, mouth in a stern pout. There was a little shake in his arms; probably from the effort of holding them in the same position for so long. 

The piece he’s playing comes to a soft point. He plays quieter, pulling sounds from the cello like running a hand over a scarf. 

“Love,” Louis says softly.

Harry doesn’t seem to realize he’s there, keeps playing, keeps pouting. 

“Darling,” Louis tries again, moving further into the room. 

It’s only when Louis is a foot away, kneeling in front of him that he opens his eyes. He makes a soft, surprised sort of sound. Louis tries not to laugh. 

“Love, you’ve been playing for hours. It’s time to take a break.”

“But Lou, this piece is so important!” he says emphatically. “If I don’t get this right, it throws off the entire sound of the piece. I have to get it right.”

“I promise you, Harry, it sounds wonderful. The only reason you’re tripping over notes now is because you’re practicing too much.”

Harry scoffs, like he’s angry, but that’s not how Harry sounds when he’s angry. “There’s no such thing as practicing too much.”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “Final year in uni would beg to differ.”

Harry grumbles something about it being different or whatever. 

Louis laughs. “Love, please. I promise, just take the rest of the night and then you can go at it again in the morning, if you’d like. The performance is next week, and you’ll still have plenty of time to adjust if you need to.”

“Just ten more minutes, Lou--”

“Nuh-uh. You won’t get away with that one again.” Louis stands and points at the cello. “Put Limon away and come have some tea. We can talk about what to have for dinner. I was thinking pho.”

“Pho,” Harry says in dismay. “The only good pho place is miles away, you can’t be serious.”

Louis smirks. “We could order delivery.”

Harry stands then, one arm hanging by his side with his bow and the other bent, hand wrapped carefully around the base of the cello’s neck. “If we order delivery it’ll take more than an hour and it’ll be cold when it gets here.”

“It won’t be cold.” Louis takes a step backwards, towards the door, making sure Harry is putting his cello away before fully turning to leave. 

“It will,” Harry shouts after him. “It was the three different times we tried.”

Once Harry is in the kitchen with Louis, he hands his husband a cup of tea and smiles. “Okay, we won’t get pho.”

Harry smiles triumphantly before looking down at the cup in his hand, back towards the study, and then up at Louis. “You tricked me,” he says deep and accusatory. 

He shrugs and grins some more, taking a sip from his own mug. “Not hard to trick you when you’re so deep in it. Maybe some incentive to take a break more often, huh?”

“You’re a devil,” Harry says, smiling widely, moving right up on Louis to give him a soft kiss. Then he kisses him again, a little longer. And soon they’re full on making out in front of the stove. Harry abandons his mug behind Louis’ back in favour of pulling him close, both his hands sprawled wide against his back. 

Louis puts his mug down to his left, bringing his hands up to Harry’s neck and kissing him deeper, slipping his tongue into Harry’s mouth. It’s still warm from his first sip of tea. 

“Mmm, Louis?” Harry moans lightly against his lips. Louis responds by gripping his husand’s long hair firmly and nipping at his bottom lip. “Lou, ” he breathes out, “...can we get Indian?”

Louis pulls away abruptly and looks at Harry skeptically. Harry just smiles innocently at him.

“A menace,” Louis says, shaking his head. “I will not have Indian food in this house, not after last time.”

Harry moves up on him again, murmuring against his cheekbones. “But baby, it’s so good. So spicy. Gets me so  _ hot _ .” He kisses Louis passionately. 

“Yeah,” Louis says, “it’s gets you hot because you caught a fever and were throwing up. That place gave you food poisoning.  _ Twice _ .”

“Baby, don’t say throw up while we’re kissing.”

Louis just kisses him again. “Would you prefer vomit?” Another kiss. “Puke?” Another. “Blow chunks?”

At that one, Harry laughs and shoves playfully at Louis shoulder. “Fuck you,” he says, still laughing, “that’s disgusting.”

They stand there laughing with each other. All heat dies and they decide on Thai food as a compromise. The restaurant is close, so they take the short walk hand in hand. It’s quiet tonight, only a few people out and about. They pick up the food and take it back with them to eat it on the little balcony just off their bedroom. 

Louis updates Harry on his thoughts for the book, and suggests they go visit Gemma’s over the weekend, see their two nieces and nephew, who range from 3 to 8 years old. Harry agrees easily, but reminds Louis of Lottie’s 5 year anniversary party Saturday night, so they’ll need to plan accordingly. 

Harry then tells Louis about his stress over the piece he’s practicing. And Louis gets it; it’s his favorite contemporary composer, who also plays the same instrument and built this entire symphony around the cello, and she’ll be there in the audience watching. It’d very nearly be like a violinist playing Beethoven’s Minuet in G to Ludwig himself. Louis doesn’t try to talk him out of his stress, it wouldn’t work anyway, so he just let’s him vent.

In the end, Harry seems better for it; even cracks a couple of jokes about how in the zone he’s been as they wash the dishes. Louis towels off one of the plates Harry hands them and smiles. 

“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” he says. Harry just looks at him and lifts an eyebrow in silent question. “How about if you pretend I’m your cello as you try it out, like we used to?”

Harry smiles wide and looks down bashfully as he washes another dish. “God, I should be so embarrassed about that. You used to have to literally pry it away from me to get me to rest.”

“You should be embarrassed, definitely. But are you?”

His dimples appear. “No, absolutely not.”

“Remember before your audition? You practiced for days. Didn’t shower. Barely ate. Only slept when you literally were about to fall over and break Limon.”

Harry shakes his head ruefully. “God, I don’t know how you put up with me then.”

“I don’t know how I put up with you now.” Louis says, tries to make it sound teasing, but instead it’s thoroughly endeared. 

Harry hands him both forks and Louis towels them off, too, before hanging it up to dry. They split to shut off all the lights in the lower level and make their way upstairs. Once there, they go about their normal routines before they come back together. 

Sometimes they’ll just sit and chat, and sometimes they’ll read their own books cuddled up next to each other. They both love telly, but are too consumed with their kids and their jobs and their families to pay attention regularly, so they end up binging a show when they have a day off together. 

Harry’s just reaching for the book on his bedside locker when Louis says, “What are you doing?”

Louis is standing by one of the grey armchairs in the room, decked out in his pajamas (one of Harry’s old t-shirts and joggers). He points to the chair and indicates Harry should sit. 

“Honestly, Lou, I feel better. I’m not that stressed any more.” 

“Yeah, but when you pick her up tomorrow, I don’t want you to revert back. I think it’ll help, I wasn’t kidding. It used to loosen you up, not think as hard about it.”

Harry sighs like it’s a big burden, but he’s already having a hard time tamping down the dimples at his cheeks. He sits down in the big chair, legs spread wide in a V with just enough room for Louis to sit on the edge of it. 

Louis sits with his back to Harry’s chest, facing their bed. He straightens his legs out in front, Harry’s legs on either side of him. He raises his left hand straight above him, then bends it back so he can anchor his palm on the back of his husband’s neck. 

Harry’s left hand moves up to Louis’ bicep, placing his fingers there softly, where he’ll pretend there are strings to hold down. Harry smooths his right palm down Louis’ right arm before it settles in the middle of his forearm, pulling it up so it bends at the elbow and is ready to serve as his bow.

He presses his left cheek into Louis’ right cheek and gives him a kiss there, whispering a  _ thank you _ before he starts moving his fingers up and down the left side of Louis’ body, and sliding Louis’ right arm across his own abdomen. 

Louis does his best to keep still, but he was never very good at that, especially not when Harry was doing this. He remembers the first time -- nearly ripping the cello out of Harry’s hands, throwing the bow on the bed and sitting in his lap. “Just relax, fuck, you’re going to give youself an anusysm,” he’d said, lifting his arm straight up above their heads. “Stop focusing on the exact thing, concentrate on the movement. Pretend I’m your cello.”

“What?” Harry had said, bewildered. 

“Pretend I’m your goddamn cello, Harold. You don’t get to play a note more of the actual thing until you play it all on me.” 

Harry had been so focused, hunched for so many hours, that he was at a loss. Was Louis serious? “What’s my bow?”

Louis looked around, like he was searching for where he threw it, but then just wiggled his right arm and said, “Me, I’m all of it.” 

He didn’t know how to fight him on it, so he just did it. Moved Louis’ arm across the front of his soft green jumper. It was different, because he had to use his whole palm to guide him, but it was good too, because Louis was trying not to giggle every time Harry would push his own fingers up intentionally by his side, where he was most ticklish, and would squirm slightly when Harry breathed lightly along his neck. They were both in bits before Harry could finish the piece. 

It became a thing, for every big piece or anything that made Harry a little too anxious or a little too obsessive. He even started asking Louis if they could do it, much to Louis’ delight. Eventually, they found a comfortable enough position for Louis to stay in for a bit while still maintaining the general shape. 

They hadn’t done it in years though, since Harry had found more consistent ways to manage his stress before it got to that level. Until now, when he was feeling the pressure of performing for one of his idols. 

Harry picks up Louis’ limp right arm and tilts it at an angle and moves along to the invisible notes. Louis lets his head tilt back and sighs contentedly. “Missed this,” he whispers. 

“Me freaking out? Or you putting your dead weight on me?” Harry whispers back. It feels too lovely to break the quiet with their normal volume. 

Louis giggles. “No, being held like this.” He must feel Harry stiffen a bit because he quickly adds, “Like, not a human. Like something that can make music.”

Harry relaxes and chuckles, kissing the side of his jaw. Louis’ lips part and stay open a little with his next sigh. 

“You’re very good at holding me, always,” Louis clarifies. “But this makes me feel magical. Like I can help you. Just something for us.”

“You are magical,” Harry says, moving his fingers up and down Louis’ upper arm, placing another longer kiss just below his ear. “You make the best music.”

Louis laughs a little too loudly for the moment, and realizes it, trying to stifle his giggles. He calms again and relaxes further into Harry’s chest. 

“Missed this too,” Harry says, after a beat. He moves his fingers down to the top side of his husband’s chest. Louis is still trying not to laugh, and ends up squirming backwards to hold it in. Harry plants another open-mouthed kiss to the side of his neck. And then another. And another, licking his way up along his jaw, hands still moving. 

“Is this what you do to your cello when I’m not home?” Louis asks. 

“Mmm, knew you’d find out one day.”

“It’s tough to resist, I bet. She’s always hard for you.”

Harry laughs into Louis’ neck. “You’re not always hard for me?”

“Hard for you in spirit, love, but if my cock was hard all the time I think it’d be a medical issue.”

Harry’s left hand moves lower, thumbing Louis’ hipbone, digging the pads of his fingers in a bit more roughly than he has been. Louis lets out a tiny gasp and involuntarily shuffles his hips back further. “Are you hard now?”

Louis hums, high and breathy. His eyes are closed. “Think I would be with the proper fingering,” he says, smirking. 

“The fingering is the most difficult part to get down of any instrument, you know.” Harry skims his teeth along the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “Takes the most practice to get it just right.” 

He moves Louis hand to hook under his shirt, brings it all the way up to his chest until one of his fingers brush against his left nipple. Louis gasps a little again and intentionally rolls his hips back now. “Make it hard,” Harry says, and Louis immediately rolls the nub between his thumb and pointer finger, a breathy moan escaping him. God, the sounds that come out of him. Harry’s already starting to thicken in his pants, especially with the way Louis is slowly driving his hips backwards. 

Louis clutches the hair at the base of Harry’s neck as he continues to play with his own nipple. 

“The other one,” Harry says, and Louis moves his hand to his right nipple and starts thumbing over that one. 

Harry slides both of his palms down his side as Louis moans softly and pushes back. When he gets to his joggers he makes it a point to slowly push the waistband down in time with Louis’ breaths. He’s already getting so worked up, and it’s so hot. He only gets the sweatpants down a little, almost halfway along his thigh, before he abandons them, trailing his fingertips up along the newly exposed skin. He kisses along his jaw and down his neck, all the way to his shoulder and then back again, occasionally nipping along the way. 

“Switch,” Harry says, and Louis goes back to his left nipple, circling around it, teasing himself. “God, you’re so hot.” 

“Fuck,” Louis moans. “You get me so hot, Harry.” 

Harry pulls the edge of the t-shirt up and holds it for a moment, just to see Louis like this, thumbing at the hard nub on his chest, cock straining against his black boxer briefs, framed by joggers abandoned on his thighs. He pulls it off completely and Louis is pliant as he gets it over and off of his arms. He goes straight back to his left nipple when he can and lets out a hearty groan, left arm dropping to his side to clutch at Harry’s thigh. 

“Yeah baby, just like that. Gotta make them nice and hard for me to play with, don’t you?”

“Yes, ugh, yes please.” 

Harry’s hands wrap around his husband’s torso and he pulls him in as much as he can, circling his own hips to meet Louis’ as they roll back on him. Harry moves Louis’ head to the right so he can nose along the left side of his neck, kiss all up and down it, plant matching love bites. Louis goes easily and digs his fingernails a little more roughly into Harry’s clothed thigh. 

“Stop now, baby,” Harry says, to which Louis whines, but he drops his hand and moves it to clutch at Harry’s other thigh. “I know, I’ll get to them soon, I promise.” He rolls his hips forward a little more aggressively. “You feel how hard you’re making me already?” Louis nods a little too forcefully. “You always make me so hard. Twenty-two years later and I still feel like that seventeen year old starting uni, bumping into this gorgeous guy outside the library.” 

Louis whines and humps forward, trying to get some friction on his cock, but there’s nothing there to help him. 

“You were so fit. Still are. God, even fitter now. Don’t know how that’s possible. Don’t know how I got so lucky.” He palms at Louis’ jaw and tilts his head back for a sloppy, tongue-heavy kiss. Louis lets out a high-pitched moan, unable to even really kiss back, he’s so turned on. He hopes Harry knows he thinks the same. 

“Can you stand, baby? Stand up for me and lay down with your back against the bed.”

It is a struggle, for a moment, to remember how his legs work, but Louis does stand and he sort of waddles to the bed, his joggers restricting his movements a bit. He shuffles up so he’s in the direct center of it, arms stretched out above his head, eyes glazed and he’s panting a bit. 

“Look at me,” Harry says. Louis’ eyes flicker over to his husband who’s lifting up the hem of his own shirt and pulling it over his head. Louis’ eyes move down to look at his abs and the V leading to his groin. Fucking Harry Styles-Tomlinson would be the man to have abs even as he’s about to turn forty. Louis knows he would love Harry at any size, but damn if those abs don’t remind him of how strong his husband is and fuck if it doesn’t send another spike of heat up Louis’ spine. 

Harry rids himself of his own joggers easily, left in only his pants. He rubs his cock through the material slowly, watching Louis watch him. Louis bites his lip and his mouth waters a bit. 

“Cross your wrists above your head,” Harry says, making his way over to the side of the bed. Louis does as he’s told, eyes trained on Harry’s hand as he palms himself. “You can keep them straight up or bend them a bit, but I want you to keep them crossed and I want you to make sure your hands are above your head. Sound good, baby?” Louis nods. “Your words, please.”

“Sounds good,” Louis breathes out. 

Harry leans over to kiss him then, murmuring against his lips, “My good boy.”

Louis gets submerged in the kiss; he keeps his arms above his head but he can’t stop his hips from squirming. He lifts his head and pushes into it, hoping it’ll move Harry along. It does, and Harry climbs onto the bed to hover above Louis, knees on either side of his hips. Louis thrusts up again. 

He doesn’t waste any more time, leaning down to lick a stripe against Louis’ right nipple. And then another before he sucks it into his mouth and lathers his tongue all over it. He pulls off and blows on it, watches it harden even more before he takes his back between his lips. 

Louis has been trying to grind his hips up, get friction from Harry’s abs, but he’s hovered too high above him. He lets out a frustrated moan as Harry’s hands come to pin his hips down and he switches to the other nipple, shocking him as he bites down lightly. 

He spends a minute on the left one, licking and biting and sucking, getting it as swollen and pink as the other, before he switches back and starts the process all over again. 

Fuck, it feels like torture. Sweet, beautiful fucking torture. Like maybe Louis could get off just like this if he concentrated hard enough, but Harry keeps pulling him out of it by sliding his thumbs along the tops of his thighs or leaving too much in between time between alternating nipples. 

“You know what we haven’t talked about in a while,” Harry says, pulling off just enough to be able to speak. His lips move against the bud and his hot breath causes gooseflesh to break out all along Louis’ chest. “Piercings.”

Louis cries out, moving his chest up involuntarily to get it back in Harry’s mouth. 

“Yeah,” Harry says. “Thought you’d like that.” He switches and sucks at the other one a bit more and then bites down a little more harshly than he has been. “Just think about it, Lou, little bars in them. You move it a little and it’s hard. Could you imagine all the pleasure, from the inside and the outside when I’m playing with them like this?”

Louis cries out again as Harry bites down with the same pressure on the other one. 

“Please,” Louis pants. 

“What do you need, baby? I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Touch me.”

“Where?”

“Cock, please, touch me.”

“Yeah baby, of course.” Harry traces along the hard line still trapped in Louis’ pants. It twitches against him. “Love your cock so much.” He trails the finger back up and rubs the underside of the head with his thumb. There’s a wet patch just above it. “Look at that, already so wet for me, so ready. God, I love you, baby.”

“Love you,” Louis slurs, trying to buck up, but unable to with one of Harry’s hands still pinning his hips down. His husband is so strong; it’s unfair and the best. 

Harry shuffles down so his face is hovering over Louis’ groin. He uses both of his hands again to pin his hips to the bed and starts mouthing softly over his cock through the black material, working his way from base to tip, where he opens his mouth wide, twists his head to the side, and sucks at the underside as best he can. 

Louis lets out a string of garbled noises and bends his arms at the elbows so he can pull at his own hair with his wrists still crossed above his head. 

“Should I keep going like this?” Harry asks. 

Louis nods, whining. 

“Or should I take off these troublesome pants?”

Louis nods more ferociously. 

“Which one, Lou?”

“Off, off please, off.”

Harry chuckles, soft and warm, and starts to peel the pants off slowly. Louis’ cock springs forward and then slaps back on his stomach. Harry gives it a little lick before sitting up so he can remove Louis’ joggers and pants all the way.

He goes back to looming over his body, but shuffles up in order to kiss his husband again. It’s sloppy and is made up of more teeth than usual, but they don’t mind when it’s like this, when they’re both caught up so deeply in each other. 

“I don’t think I tell you enough, Lou, how good being in your forties looks on you.”

Louis laughs a little and kisses him again. 

“Seriously, so fucking hot. You’ll have more grey hair coming in soon, I’d bet. My silver fox.”

Louis laughs again, sliding his left foot up his right calf, a little giddy. Harry pulls back to smile down at him. “I love you,” he says, and tilts his head up for another kiss. Harry obliges, kissing him soft and sweet. But that’s not what Louis wants right now.

Louis moans softly into it and then tilts his head back to expose his neck. Harry switches to kissing his jaw and down his throat. “Harry,” he breathes out. “Love your mouth. Love all the things it does, but especially things it does to me.”

“Like what, baby?” Harry asks. He nips at his adams apple and plants open-mouth kisses along his chest. 

“Like… when you’re at my thighs.”

Harry hurries his way down to kiss and suck and leave little love bites along Louis’ thighs. 

“Like when you lick your way up,” Louis says after a few minutes. 

Harry licks his way up the inside of his thighs, up to the part where they meet his hips and sucks at the soft skin there. Louis’ cock twitches at that. 

“Like when you suck me down.”

Harry licks a long strip up Louis’ cock and then takes his head into his mouth, swirling his tongue and causing Louis to nearly white out from the pleasure of it. Slowly, Harry takes inch after inch of him until he’s all the way in his mouth. He looks up and smiles around his cock before he starts to move up and down. Louis tugs at his own hair again and tries not to thrust up. 

Suddenly, it becomes too much to have his own mouth empty. 

“Harry,” Louis tries to say, but it comes out like a whine. Harry hums to show he’s listening, and it shoots another zip of pleasure through him. It takes a few moments to center himself enough to say, “I wanna suck you, too.”

Harry comes up and it makes a delicious popping sound as he does. He replaces his mouth with one of his hands so he can speak. “Baby, if you get your mouth on me, I’m going to come, and I really want to fuck you.” 

“I could make you hard again,” Louis offers. 

His husband smiles widely at him. “I know you could baby, but it would take a while. Want to be deep inside of you soon.” His eyes turn mischievous. “But, I think I can make you hard again in no time.” 

He moves his hand and sucks Louis’ cock back down all in one go, hallowing out his cheeks and bobbing fast. Louis cries out from the sudden muchness of it all. 

" _ Harry _ ,” Louis cries. He’s desperate to do something, but he doesn’t quite know what since his hands are above his head and Harry won’t give him his cock. Thankfully, Harry knows what to do, and moves his hand up, shoving two fingers between Louis’ lips. He sucks them down gratefully, moaning and grinding his hips up to meet Harry’s mouth. 

It’s not another thirty seconds before Louis is crying out around Harry’s fingers and shooting off deep in the back of his husband’s throat. Harry works him through it, pulling off of his cock, but leaving his fingers in Louis’ mouth. Louis continues to move his tongue around them and up between them, sucking them back together every so often. 

“Yeah, get ‘em nice and wet for me, Lou. Let me know when you’re ready. Can’t wait to get them inside of you.”

Louis moans at the words and tilts his head down so he can suck them down deeper. Harry has such lovely long fingers, thick and able to reach so far up inside him, almost as far as his cock when he’s fucking Louis into their mattress. 

“I’m ready,” Louis slurs around his fingers. 

Harry removes his fingers from Louis’ mouth and trails his other hand down his side. “You’re so sexy like this. Love when I get to make you come more than once.” He positions the tips of his fingers at Louis’ rim and rubs slow circles there for a bit and then he pushes one of them slowly inside.

Louis arches off the bed and breathes heavily. 

“You can move your arms if you want, baby.”

Louis uncrosses his wrists and brings them down by his hips to grip at the duvet. 

Harry moves his finger in and out slowly, and then a little faster when Louis is ready. Louis is humping downwards, trying to get more as his cock starts to thicken back up. 

“You know what else my mouth can do?” Harry asks.

“What?” Louis breathes.

“It can eat you out.”

Louis lets out a strangled noise and humps down more fiercely. 

“You like that idea?”

“Yeah, yes, please, god, please lick me.”

Harry doesn’t say another word, just leans down as he continues pistoning a finger inside of him and pulls Louis’ right leg up and over his shoulder so he can gain better access. He breathes over Louis’ hole and his movements stutter; considering how Harry is already inside of him, shouldn’t make him squirm as much as it does. 

He noses at Louis’ balls, flicks his tongue up them once, before moving down a bit and licking at his perineum. He sucks at the skin there to hear Louis whine in his favorite way. He does it again and it gets more high pitched. Then he licks boldly at his rim, just above his finger and listens to Louis groan low in his chest. 

Harry’s pants are still on, and he feels a little trapped. His hands are both indisposed, so he tries to rub up against the mattress as best he can to get some relief when Louis moans loudly again.

“Another, Harry,” Louis begs.

He’s not sure if he means another lick or another finger, so he gives him both, and loves the sound it rips out of his husband. He hums happily as he sucks at the skin, and then slips his tongue between his fingers. 

Louis doesn’t stop moving, fisiting the sheets in his hands, humping his hips up towards the ceiling and then circling them back down to get Harry’s fingers further inside of him. He spits into him to make him wetter and adds a third. He’s hiking up Louis’ leg up a bit higher to get a better angle, and Louis nearly sobs out from the shift. 

“Fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckme,” he babbles, grappling for Harry’s arm, trying to urge him up. 

“A minute, baby, gotta make sure you’re ready,” Harry says, turning to his left to mouth gently at any soft, smooth skin he can get his lips on.

“I’m ready,” Louis sobs. He’s got a death grip on Harry’s forearm, nails biting into the skin. “I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m--”

“Shh,” Harry murmurs. “I’ve got you, always got you.” He slowly removes his fingers and shuffles up on Louis’ body, leaning over to his bedside locker to get the lube and a couple of condoms. 

“No condom,” Louis says, reaching for Harry’s pants, palming him through them as he tries to pull them down. 

“Baby, then we’ll make too big of a mess and have to change the sheets.”

“I don’t care, Harry, I want to feel all of you.”

Harry’s cock twitches in Louis’ hand as he starts to pump him, still trying to push the material down with his other hand. Harry bites his lip. 

“Okay. Okay let me get a towel then, maybe.” 

Louis starts to pump a little faster and when Harry opens his eyes and looks down, Louis looks enthralled with Harry’s cock. He’s biting his lip and has his eyebrows scrunched up, like he’s trying really hard to remember why he can’t just open up and swallow it all the way down. A blurt of precome shoots out, and belatedly Louis opens his mouth for it. 

Immediately, Harry removes Louis’ hand, otherwise he’ll come all over his pretty face. Which wouldn’t be a big deal, hell would be fucking great, if Harry didn’t have the opportunity to take his time tonight, if there wasn’t the option of being so deep inside of him, so close to him: 

Hurriedly, he runs to their en suite, shedding his pants and grabbing a towel before he looks at his toothbrush briefly. He doubles back and makes quick work of brushing his teeth and tongue; it’s only a few seconds before Louis calls out for him, sounding like he’s in pain. Harry spits out the paste, drops his toothbrush into the sink, and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand as he rushes back to him. 

Louis has pulled both of his legs up, feet planted on the mattress so they’re in a V. He’s dipped his fingers inside of himself, keeping himself full. 

“Fuck, baby,” Harry says. “Beautiful thing. So fucking gorgeous, aren’t you?”

His face was already flushed, but it seems to burn brighter at the compliment. A drop of sweat falls from his temple. Harry wants to lick it off. 

Harry drops the towel and lube beside him and gets back on the bed between his husband’s legs. He rubs his palms up Louis thighs and watches his fingers disappear past his rim. “How do you want it, baby?”

Louis cries out when Harry’s hand wraps around his cock. “Wanna ride you.”

“Fuck. Yeah, fuck, want that too,” Harry says, pulling away and grabbing the towel. He arranges it by the headboard and then sits on it, beckoning Louis over to him. He removes his fingers and straddles Harry’s lap, circling forward so his cock brushes against Harry’s chest while Harry’s hands move up and down along his sides, thumbs brushing over his nipples every few turns. 

Louis looks back and fumbles for the lube, uncapping it and squirting too much into his hand. Harry dips two of his fingers into the puddle of it before reaching around and feeling for his hole. He rubs over it before slipping them in, watching his husband’s face carefully. He moans, long and low, pushing back on Harry’s hand to get him further inside. Leaning forward, he holds himself up by leveraging his hand on Harry’s shoulder. Then, he seems to remember all the lube in his other hand, makes a loose fist and slides it up and down Harry’s cock. 

Harry gasps, mouth open at Louis’ collarbones, sliding his fingers out of him. 

They both move in tandem, then, when he’s good and wet. They kiss sloppily, and Louis only barely registers the taste of mint where he was expecting bitterness. He pulls back to look at Harry’s face as he lines himself up with his cock and sinks down slowly. Harry’s face scrunches up, fighting the pleasure of it, tipping his head back against the headboard. He lets out the breath he was holding and opens his eyes. Louis smiles down at him, licks his lips and starts the rise and fall motion, slapping his lube-coated hand on Harry’s shoulder to help with his momentum. 

He gains a rhythm quickly, alternating from moving straight up and down to corkscrewing his hips over his husband’s cock. Harry grips at his waist to help him along and it creates an entirely new sensation when he angles him down, finding his prostate. Louis hollers and falls forward a little, kissing whatever skin he can reach. Harry wastes no time in pulling his knees up to cradle Louis in towards his chest, and starts moving his hips up to meet him halfway. 

“Fu-uh-uh-uck,” Louis says, bouncing faster. 

“Best noises,” Harry says. “My favorite sounds. You make all my favorite sounds.”

Louis gets out a chuckle that quickly turns into a moan. “Don’t let Limon hear you say that.”

“The cello’s got nothing on you, baby,” Harry says, moving his arms around to hold Louis steadily to his chest, thrusting up with more intent. “M’the luckiest man on earth, the only one that gets to listen to all this beautiful music.” He moves one arm down and grabs Louis’ arse with his giant palm, dipping a finger between his cheeks to feel where he’s inside. Louis’ hands move up Harry’s neck, one side leaving a trail of lube, and then he threads his fingers through his hair as he gets fucked. 

They’re getting close. Harry’s just barely holding himself back, gripping tightly at Louis’ arse to ground himself as they move together. 

The sound of Louis’ uh-uh-uhs and skin slapping fills the room. On a particularly deep thrust, Louis makes a sound so high and so lovely that Harry has to repeat the motion to hear it again. And again. And again. And then Louis gasps, tugs harshly at the hair in his fists and grinds down fast as he chases his orgasm until he cries out loudly, practically sobbing in Harry’s ear. The clench around Harry’s cock pushes him over the edge, so he thrusts up hard and deep so he can be buried as far as he can, holding him tightly to his chest. 

They breathe loudly as they come down. Their skin starts to cool and each of them can feel the sweat and lube more acutely now. 

Louis pulls back first, but he’s still close enough for Harry to keep them in their hug. He laughs a little hysterically. “S’been ages since you’ve fucked me like that.”

Harry response with a laugh of his own. “We don’t usually have the house to ourselves like this.”

Louis nods and leans forward to rest his forehead on Harry’s, giggling a little. “Damn kids.” His husband leans forward and kisses him lazily. “Did you brush your teeth?” Louis asks. 

“Yeah,” Harry murmurs. 

“What are we, in uni again? Pretending we smell nice all the time?”

He laughs. “No, I just didn’t want to feel bad about kissing you after licking you out.”

Louis gives him another long slow kiss. “Never have to feel bad, love. I like feeling dirty like that.”

“Mmm, my dirty boy.”

“Mmhmm.”

Harry breaks away. “Okay, let me get out of you.”

“Mm just a second,” he says, kissing him again, hands trailing down Harry’s chest. 

“Baby, it’s gonna hurt.”

Louis just shrugs and giggles a little more. “I just like feeling you inside of me.”

Harry tugs him closer to his chest and kisses all down his neck, then lifts him off of his softening cock before straightening out his legs and settling him back down into his lap. “Love being inside you,” he says, “but only when it won’t hurt.” 

“Mm I love you,” Louis says, linking his arms behind Harry’s neck, and then he feels slickness start to slide down to Harry’s thighs and the towel beneath them. “Can feel you leaking out of me.”

Harry hugs him tighter, smoothing his hands up his back slowly. “Baby, if you keep saying those things to me, I’m going to want to fuck you again.”

“What things? Like that I want your come inside of me always? Or that it’s like I can still feel your massive cock thrusting up into me? Maybe how you made me want to come when you said I was beautiful music.”

Harry chuckles. “Yeah, all of those things.”

“Do you really think that?” Louis asks, a touch more seriously. 

“Lou, if I went deaf tomorrow, the thing I’d miss most in the world is the sound of your voice.”

Louis gasps, only sort of forced. “Not Britten’s Cello Symphony?”

“Not a chance.”

“Not the kid’s voices?”

“Alright, don’t do that to me,” he laughs. “Your voice is what I hear in everything I do, Lou. You’re in everything I do. And I’m sorry if I’ve been too caught up recently to tell you that.”

Louis shakes his head. “No, love, don’t do that. I haven’t been wanting for anything, with you. You’re the best. Always the best.” He nuzzles down and into Harry’s neck. 

“Good,” Harry says, and sighs contentedly into his hair. 

Harry’s fingers dance across his back and find a particularly ticklish spot on his side, which makes Louis gasp and wiggle away, falling back on the bed to laugh. 

“Mmm, the best noises,” Harry says, getting up on his hands and knees to hover over him again. “Let’s shower. I’ve got to get this lube out of my hair,” he sort of laugh growls. Louis threads his lube lined hand through the hair again, grinning like a maniac. “Then, tomorrow, we’re going to have a lie in in the morning, binge watch Peaky Blinders all day like we’ve been meaning to, and then I’m going to play something for you on the piano. While you lay on top of it naked. Because when you hear that piece you’re going to want to jump me  _ immediately _ .”

Louis smiles incredibly wide up at Harry. “The piano, tomorrow? Not the cello?”

“Nah, got all the practice I needed tonight.” He sucks at the skin just below the left side of his jaw. “We’ll give her a break tomorrow, I think.”

Louis heart flutters and reminds himself to make Harry play him again the next time the kids are away. He says, “Better tell her you love her at least, or else she’ll think you’ve left her behind.”

“Always come back,” Harry says, leaning down to kiss him again. “Could never leave my first love behind.” He hums happily when Louis pulls him fully down on top of him. 

“No,” Louis sighs against his mouth. “Never.” 


End file.
